I Never Thought About Visiting Rotterdam Until I Saw This Airbnb

I'm normally a book-tickets-first, pick-hotels-second kind of girl. But the entire MO behind a weekend trip to Rotterdam was to check out the city's vibrant modern architecture scene. In particular? I was crushing on the kubuswoningen, or cube houses, designed by Dutch architect Piet Blom and beloved by photographers around the world for their cube-perched-on-a-point designs and bright yellow hue. Several of the homes are bookable Airbnb listings, though they often fill up months in advance. Luckily, I had one thing working in my favor: my only available window was in January. One was open.

These houses, in a cluster of 39 across the street from the city's Blaak train station, were designed in 1977, and have been a local oddity ever since. They're in a sort of clunky circle in the Oude Haven neighborhood near the city's harbor, which was badly damaged during World War II bombings. Blom was tasked with creating new housing in the area, and his inventive approach to urban living was unlike anything else in the world at the time. Today, one of the most popular photo ops is to lie in the center of the ground, look up, and see how the tops of the cubes touch each other in something resembling a star shape. After dodging Instagrammers who were leaping and posing in front of the houses, I found the one I was looking for. The owner, Mitch, greeted me and gave me a quick tour before ducking out—though his mother bought the home and he grew up in it, Mitch now makes enough money renting the cube house out year-round that he lives elsewhere in Rotterdam and comes back to clean and get guests settled.

As I'd guessed from the shape, the apartment was divided into five floors, with the largest one in the middle. The first level was a glorified staircase landing, the second a foyer and half bath, the third a kitchen and living room, the fourth two small bedrooms and the bathroom, the very top a lovely sunroom stocked with books and a chess set underneath where the house came to its point. Between each floor was a narrow staircase—although the owners had made several smart modifications to the house (tread on the stairs, custom-made covers for the rhombus-shaped windows), it still seemed like an impossible residence for someone disabled or injured. Everything was minimalist, with varying effects—as a New Yorker who lives in a cramped studio, I was already used to limited countertop space, but a life without closets seemed beyond comprehension. I wound up bringing only essential clothes, gadgets, and toiletries upstairs with me and left my suitcases on the landing so I didn't have to shlep luggage up multiple flights of stairs. And the unusual design of the homes, which tilt inward in a sort of awkward circle, meant that I could reach out the bedroom window and touch my closest neighbor's window easily. This proximity also gave me a peek into how the cube house owners customize their homes—some had flowers or artwork hanging up in the windows, facing outward for the benefit of others' views, while a friendly gray cat seemed to appreciate my waves from across the way. Most either didn't want to deal with the hassle of getting custom-fitted window coverings or simply didn't care about modesty, which meant I saw a handful of folks drinking coffee in their underwear in the morning.

A person who chooses to live in such an unusual home has to be pretty open to this connected way of life—fitting, since Blom was all about designing for communities more than individuals. Other modern architecture in town speak to this idea, as well: the new Rotterdam Centraal station, completed in 2014, which looks like a luminescent upside-down Nike swoosh, is an airy, open meeting place where people hang out even if they're not waiting for a train; the award-winning Markthal (market hall) is home to both the city's biggest food market, but also has apartments and offices surrounding the semicircular structure. On a walking tour with local company Urban Guides, I learned about the electric-yellow Luchtsingel, considered the world's first-ever "crowdfunded public infrastructure project." The bridge connects Rotterdam Centraal to various city projects, including a community vegetable garden, and people who donated to the construction got their names written on wooden boards along the side. Rotterdam is a city, it seems, where the structures are living entities, not creaky old museums full of antiques collecting dust.

So often, architecture feels like something we look at, not something we experience. In some ways, sleeping in a cube house is extremely normal: I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and flipped through Facebook just like I do at home. But even for someone accustomed to a small space, I hadn't considered the odd corners and sharp angles—I nearly bumped my head in the shower multiple times, and I kept over-reaching for the stair railings. But I woke up the next day even more excited to take in Rotterdam's design, and spending time inside the cube house made me feel like I was absorbing some of the energy that makes the city so different from classic, quaint Amsterdam. It's not the Holland I'd been planning to visit—but it's the one I wanted to bring home with me.